


lost in memory

by ethqreal



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Dramatic, F/M, Pining, Songfic, a lot of pining, based on august (taylor swift), cordelia is really sad, like gross amount of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethqreal/pseuds/ethqreal
Summary: Cordelia knew that before she could prepare herself, the months slipped away and it was time to go.- *loosely* based on the song august by taylor swift
Relationships: Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale, Grace Blackthorn/James Herondale
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	lost in memory

**Author's Note:**

> this fic takes place after chain of gold. and also i can't imagine cordelia would pine this much so perhaps a bit ooc. also also unedited.

Cordelia sat on the chair in the small flat the two had gotten together. It had been a pleasant surprise and she enjoyed it more then she thought she would to have a place of her own. Their own. 

Although that never stopped the whole group constantly coming over, sprawled on the chairs, talking loudly. 

Cordelia was more than grateful for their interruptions, desperately needing a distraction from the brushes and casual intimacy she shared with James, that only made her wince. She was attempting to busy herself but of course, she just couldn’t help gazing up at him. 

James sat at the tall window, long legs clad in black trousers splayed out with a book open in his hands, as always. The bright August sun flickered in his dark hair and his long lashes left shadows that brushed against his sharp cheekbones. 

Cordelia could remember him telling her the appeal of old books, the wrinkling covers and the creased pages along with the musky smell. 

She remembered everything he told her, every small tidbit he said with a crooked smile, she tucked away along with his laugh and hair that fell over his eyes and the itching to brush it away. 

Maybe if she had Lucie's talent she would write down every significant sentence he said to her, but her memory seemed to be sufficient enough. 

She wanted to keep every bit of James she could and hold on to it as long as she was able until inevitably he would run to the one he was in love with. To hold onto remnants of his rough drawls in the early mornings and rumpled shirts. 

Cordelia couldn’t imagine wanting another man, not after him, after this year. A part of her had a feeling she would forever be lost in him, lost when he said things that made her heart clench and even when he was madly in love with another girl. 

In a few weeks, he would belong to her again, but letting go of him seemed so difficult. Her husband. Her James.

Cordelia twisted her mouth. He was never hers. She knew that. Deluding herself was silly, a useless endeavour. Even when she had him, spinning her around in a ballroom, hands clasped at her waist, his golden eyes sparkling, she knew where his thoughts truly lied, and it wasn't on the sway of her hips or the spinning velvety dress. 

She did try to pretend, just for a moment while his fingers pressed into the soft skin of her hips and his hair brushing the top of her head, but was always slapped back into reality when his eyes immediately darted to the entrance as Grace and Charles walked in. Like they always did. She tried to ignore how his grip tightened and jaw clenched. She tried so hard. 

Trying. Pretending.

Cordelia watched him flip the pages as the setting sun continued to flicker over him through the window. Her eyes were caught by the silver bracelet glinting in the golden light mockingly. 

Cordelia looked away. 

She knew to consider hoping, to entertain the idea, would only leave her in tatters. She wouldn’t. She knew if she even attempted to, she would never escape. 

Wanting him was enough, but to consider the times his hands found hers, when his eyes would slide over the curve of her neck or linger on her hair that brushed her back, would be too much. 

Perhaps he was attracted to her, perhaps a part of him maybe even liked it, she could concede that. 

But it didn’t matter, it simply would never matter because when she brightened up at his laugh or her heart twisted when she saw him search for her, graceful limbs and flowing hair in the room, his heart would twist for another girl. Not for her. Never for her. 

Not to say she even ever had the chance to consider hope anyway, not when she would come to the home they shared, to find James’ dark head bent towards her blonde locks, raised voices and familiarity buzzing between them. 

Cordelia had inhaled sharply, unexpected to be greeted with such an intimate scene and quickly stuttered an apology before running right out the door. 

Of course, James went after her, apologizing as she knew he would and Cordelia fought the sharp bitterness in her words and the cutting jealousy that seared in her. She dug her nails in her hand to ensure she was as composed as always, perhaps only a little embarrassed to interrupt the two lovers. 

But never resentful. Never upset. Never heartbroken. 

And as the lies slid out of her mouth and the worry in James’ face loosened to have hurt her, Cordelia knew she couldn’t hope. It wasn’t even an option. 

Cordelia realized she was watching him again, yet she couldn't even feel guilty when James lazily stretched, the bottom of his white shirt escaping where it was tucked in his pants. A sliver of pale skin glimmered in the approaching evening, taunting Cordelia. He slumped back into the window, still lost in his book and she pulled her eyes away, her face burning. 

She ached to ask him. If he remembered. The stupid dark room, the sighs exchanged and his breath hot against her. Pretending. Pretending as they were tangled up in each other. 

Cordelia resented how after so many months she still thought of it, felt his hands run along the length of her and the silk of her dress sliding between them. But what would he say to that, to that moment of impropriety? Cordelia tried not to focus on what had happened, what could've happened, but sometimes her thoughts ran farther than she could keep up. 

Cordelia knew that before she could prepare herself, the months would slip away and it was time to go. And she could see it clearly. 

She would say goodbye and James would smile and tell her he wouldn’t fake-marry anyone else and she would force out a chuckle that sounded too high to her ears. He would continue to be a wonderful friend, parabati and brother to others but never the way she wanted him.

She would see him watch her and she wouldn’t be able to say a word, except maybe offer a comforting hand. She could see the future laid out in front of her, crystal clear of pain and what was to come.

The London night sky now peered back behind James at Cordelia, reminding her that she had slipped away in her thoughts. She shook her head, a weak attempt to eliminate her thoughts and mindless pining. 

She stood up and smoothed out her dress.“I’m going to head to bed,” Cordelia told James and he agreed absentmindedly, urgently flipping through the last of the pages. She went into her bedroom as he stayed curled up at the window, battling his conflicting feelings.


End file.
